


A Different Kind of Baby

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (or at least as far as we know), Alternate Canon, Coda, Episode: s11e04, Episode: s11e04 Baby, First Kiss, Fluff and Mush, Humor, M/M, Orange is the New Black References, Post-Canon, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Dean and Cas can get into the point of no return, Sam collapses into the chair closest to him and clears his throat, effectively claiming their attention, “Sorry to cut this lover's quarrel short, I’m uh, kinda dying over here.”</p><p> </p><p>Coda to 11x04, written when the boys return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I’d live to write a canon piece where Cas has permanent residence in the bunker. 
> 
> I tried to do this glorious episode justice. Robbie Thompson never short of amazes me.

Castiel is watching a group of alpha females chase after a divine chicken, still wondering exactly _how_ this snooty and obviously delusional Piper character is the heroine in this series, when the front door slams open.

Cas rushes into the war room without a second thought. The first thing he notices is Dean ~~walking~~ stumbling through the entrance, sporting blood like it's going out of style (which, granted, is the Winchester’s signature look 99.9% of the time). Sam, whose weight is dependent entirely on Dean's side, doesn't look any better. They're as white as the bones that he, despite the eldest's uniform protests, will indisputably have to mend.

There’s a moment of arid silence and a thousands of ways to fill it. Castiel is torn between giving Dean an earful because **“ _what else am I good for then helping your short-sighted sociopathic self on a hunt?”_** and running over old ground, i.e., helping the Winchesters.

As always, the second option takes the crown.

“What happened?” he asks, climbing the stairs to take hold of the younger brother. It would be a comedic sight given Sam’s jarring height, but now was not one of those times. Sam is smarter and accepts what little help is offered to him. Unlike his brother, he knows better than to go against a former angel of the Lord. “Ghoulpires?”

Dean chuckles, albeit weakly. Again, Cas fails to see the humor. “Knew I’d get someone t’ say it.”

“What, you mean to tell me all the time you spent hacking heads, ignoring _my_ advice, didn’t help?”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, I listened!” he defends gruffly.

“Then you wouldn’t have failed to see that decapitation does nothing.”

Dean gestures with his head between him and his near-boneless brother. “I think we noticed.”

Before Dean and Cas can get into the point of no return, Sam collapses into the chair closest to him and clears his throat, effectively claiming their attention, “Sorry to cut this lover's quarrel short, I’m uh, kinda dying over here.”

“My apologies,” he replies, placing his smooth, tanned hands on his creased forehead.

Sam is healed in the time it takes Dean to spew an unconscientious thought, and despite exhaustion written in bold letters across his face, he looks better. Dean does too.  It’s something about their aurora. Before it was always darker, now it’s like someone took a hammer and a nail, allowing for the faintest of light to stream through that darkness. Perhaps a little time away from…well, _the_ Darkness, was good for the soul.

Cas approaches Dean next, only they’re closer in proximity than he and Sam. Dean doesn’t seem nervous. In fact, despite what comes out of his mouth next, he seems calmer compared to his typical loaded gun complex.

“Amara, the Darkness, she’s assembling an army, like Azazel and Lilith.”

“This is going to pinch.” Dean’s writhes slightly underneath Castiel’s fingers, but heals all the same.

For a moment, the two of them just stand face-to-face, heedless of the youngest’s absence until Dean says, “You can’t do your mojo a car, can you?”

“The Impala?” Dean nods. Cas shakes his head softly. “Even my powers have their limits.”

“That’s alright,” he says, shrugging noncommittally, “I’ve fixed ‘er up plenty of times. It’ll probably do me some good anyhow, bein’ under her again. Quality time, you know.”

Cas chuckles, “Unfortunately, I don’t. That’s between you and ‘her’.” There are air-quotes. Dean laughs too.

“Right, sorry.” There’s a pause, hesitant, brooding. Dean’s lips are running, but nothing escapes him. Cas notices the audacity in his eyes, but doesn’t expect him to act upon it. He doesn’t. “So, _Orange,_ huh?”

“It’s a very educational show.”

“I’ll say. Watching chicks eat each other out is quality television.”

Cas laughs again, only this time it’s to hide the blush crowding his cheeks, “Is _everything_ about sex with you?”

“In case you forgot when I stabbed you in the barn, Hi, I’m Dean Winchester.”

Cas rolls his eyes, then turns back to him with a serious countenance. “Do you… want to watch the rest… with me, you know, tonight?”

“Nah, you go ahead, I should probably turn in…”

“Right, of course, my apologies,” he amends quickly. He steps back to let Dean pass, except instead of going the opposite direction, Dean surges forward. They repeat this process until what feels like the rooster crows until Dean rocks uncomfortably in Castiel’s position and vice versus. And they’re _much_ closer. “Uh… Dean?”

Dean’s eyes flick to Castiel’s lips and before either of them can help it, they crash there.

Castiel is grateful his powers are, as he said, limited, because Dean’s lips are chapped and the only way to really fix that is to run his tongue over the seams and greedily lick until Dean parts for him.

Once he’s brought down the giant that is Dean’s tongue, Castiel’s tastebuds are overwhelmed by mint and booze that’s both intoxicating and addicting, like a gateway drug. Then Dean’s hand buries itself in his hair and it takes everything in Cas’s power not to take him right then and there.

“God I just washed her too,” he whines as he breaks away too easily for Cas’s liking.

“Dean, unless we’re taking this to the backseat, _no car talk,”_ he says, kissing him as feverishly as before. Except now Cas has Dean too distracted to focus on anything else.

He sounds like a teenager when he gripes, “We could’ve totally made out back there!”

Cas wiggles his eyebrows, drawing Dean in by the lapel of his blood-stained coat. “Who says we can’t?”

Dean’s lust-blown eyes widen to the size of Granny Smiths and a slow smile crosses his face. They race up the stairs hand-in-hand, Cas shadowing behind an eager Dean. And if Sam happens to return to the library in flannel bottoms with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Rocky Road ice cream, muttering a small thanks to the God he prayed to in the chapel that was his business. Tonight, Cas is chasing after his divine ~~chicken~~ hunter.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not kidding you, my first out-loud thought after those freaking ghoulpires smashed Baby's windows was, "Dean just washed her too!" You can't say you weren't thinking the same.


End file.
